The Usual Things
by Anonymous Nerd Girl
Summary: This is a fluffy little one-shot about Mr. Gold surprising Belle. It's set in post-curse Storybrooke and at the Dark Castle during the "Skin Deep" timeline. I dedicate this to the talented narciscia who was chatting with me when I came up with the idea. Read, review, and enjoy!


_**I don't own OUAT, I just wish that they would include a scene like this in Season 2. Just sayin'.**_

* * *

**Storybrooke**

With nimble fingers Mr. Gold pried the back off the little clock. The antique dealer in his brain, a product of the Curse, dated the walnut time piece as late Victorian. His other self, the magician, recognized it as an oddity from another world. Specifically, it once graced the mantle of his own fireplace in the Dark Castle.

He looked into its face with concern, its glass covering was cracked and the hands were bent at awkward angles. The poor fellow had been maimed during one of the Dark One's destructive rages. The memory jarred him- the clock had been a casualty of The Kiss. Sighing he laid the clock on the table, checking his watch as he did so. He had a half hour before he was due to meet Belle at Granny's. "What better way to kill time than fixing a clock?" Gold murmured as he surveyed the damage once more.

Rumplestiltskin had been a great one for ruining things, but nearly three decades of walking around in Mr. Gold's skin had taught him to appreciate the act of repair. He could now understand the small satisfaction of setting something to rights. Belle told him of that sensation not long after he brought her to the Dark Castle. His Belle was a firm believer in tidying up and in fixing things. And she was also, thankfully, a firm believer in forgiveness.

Some twisted part of him wished she had lashed out at him when her memories returned. He owed her thirty years of apologies and groveling. He would have happily spent weeks begging her forgiveness on his knees. But her love and trust were instantaneously given, and he was grateful. Secretly, he wore his guilt like a hair shirt next to his skin. Of course it had been a thousand times worse when he thought her dead, but he was still responsible. He shut her out, he failed to protect her, and he broke both their hearts.

There was no clear way to put things to rights other than accepting Belle's love and focusing all of his effort into protecting her and providing for her. It didn't feel like enough though, especially when she had such little interest in material comforts. And she feared that his "protection" was just an excuse to take revenge on the Queen. Mercy had been the only request she made of him, and he wasn't sure he could give it.

He wanted to do something, give her something that was just for her. But what? The imp in the back of his mind cackled, 'Well, there are the usual things. Flowers. Chocolates. Promises you don't intend to keep.'

"That's really helpful," Gold hissed. The Dark One didn't properly exist in this land that was just soaking in Magic, but echoes of his former self reverberated occasionally. "The usual things." The brief flicker of their courtship at the Dark Castle had been anything but usual. Rumplestiltskin had never offered Belle anything but his company- sarcasm, quips, and the odd kindly gesture. Even then her trust in him was unearned. Inspiration suddenly struck Gold, and for once he was unafraid of letting history repeat itself. The usual things indeed.

**The Dark Castle**

Rumplestiltskin couldn't help watching the impossible girl. She was so insufferably cheerful in her captivity. Every day she served his meals and cleaned his home. She gave her smiles freely and always had a kind word for him. It was all very confusing. He had taken her from her home and family, he had stripped her of her titles and position. Why was she taking it so well?

After her first night in the dungeons he never heard her complain or demand better treatment. He could have understood if it was fear. Rumplestiltskin had been on the receiving end of enough false politeness and flattery from people that feared his scorn or wanted to curry his favor. Belle was different.

She treated him like a friend, which made no sense. A small part of Rumplestiltskin's soul responded to her gentleness with gratitude and silent devotion. She had awakened what remained of his humanity- but the contrast was almost unbearable. No insult, no shriek of fear had _ever_ made him feel his own monstrosity so keenly.

At first he thought her demeanor was a ploy to gain more creature comforts. He thought he could ease his guilt by returning some of her civility. He conjured her some appropriate clothing and gave her a habitable bedroom. It was like a silent deal. But it wasn't. Her surprise and delight were too genuine. Her fleeting embrace too spontaneous to be a part of any plan or scheme- areas in which Rumplestiltskin was very well versed.

Unsettling, that's what it was. He tried to keep his distance, but she always sought him out. Her reasons were innocuous enough, questions about the castle or cups of tea between meals. She was found of touch too, nothing flirtatious mind. If anything the gentle hand she would rest on his shoulder was maternal. He often felt her watching him, sometimes he would catch her at it her brow slightly furrowed in concern. It was laughable really, the girl worrying over his welfare when she was at his mercy.

What surprised Rumplestiltskin the most was his growing desire to give her something. Not a token of affection. That would be trite and unwelcome. No, he wanted to provide her with something that would brighten her day- no days. Something that would spark her interest. He had it...

**Storybrooke**

"Belle, there's something I want to show you. But you'll have to close your eyes."

The couple was taking one of their frequent strolls through town. His choice of words was not unfamiliar to Belle. Rum had developed a habit of presenting her with surprises and trinkets. She loved how hard he was trying, but she wished he would stop spoiling her. Being reunited with her True Love was enough for Belle, that and knowing he loved her in return. She couldn't fathom what surprise he had waiting for her on Main Street. She hoped it wasn't a car.

"Can I open them?"

"Not yet, dearie. Here, let's turn you around so I know you aren't peeking."

Belle turned away from her love and she could hear him fumbling with a lock.

"Come on love, step inside."

"Now can I open them?"

"Not yet." She could hear his cane clicking on the hard floor and the familiar sound of drapes being torn down. The memory sent her reeling.

"Rum?"

"Open your eyes, dearie."

**The Dark Castle**

Belle gaped at the sight before her. The room was dusty and neglected, but filled with more books than she had ever seen. There were mountains of books. Cascades. Rumplestiltskin had his back to the window; his face was hidden by what must have been the only shadows in the room.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a dump." his words were dour, but his tone was high pitched and giddy. "Like it?"

**Storybrooke**

"Well dearie?"

"It's wonderful!"

**The Dark Castle**

"Do you- do you want me to clean it for you?"

"It's yours." his voice registered at a lower pitch than usual.

"Mine?"

"Unless you want to help me start a bonfire..." he giggled.

**Storybrooke**

"You're not going to cry again, are you dearie?"

Belle dragged her fingers over the dust on the circulation desk. "They were happy tears. Besides, they gave me an excuse to hug you."

**The Dark Castle**

"You know I was teasing? Right?"

Belle let out another sob and wrapped her arms around the imp. Rumplestiltskin was startled, but he found himself patting her back awkwardly.

**Storybrooke**

Gold cleared his throat, "I don't think the subterfuge is necessary any more. Do you?"

Belle shook her head as he gathered her into his arms. Tears were leaking but her smile was brilliant. "You're the only man alive that can get away with giving a woman the same gift twice."

"Well, I do have some influence here. And the town does need a librarian." He thought about adding a quip about bonfires, but it didn't seem so important as her lips claimed his.


End file.
